


all i'm really asking for is you

by serein



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Airports, Angst, Beyonce - Freeform, Christmas, Fluff, Holidays, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Schweinski Holiday Fic Exchange, Snow, apologies lmao, mine, moms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-24
Updated: 2015-12-24
Packaged: 2018-05-07 21:08:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5470829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/serein/pseuds/serein
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Snow, airports, and telephone calls. And love, as always.</p><p>There's always love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	all i'm really asking for is you

**Author's Note:**

> ayy so max didn't find out about serena (HG_Rising)'s challenge until the 19th, and i didn't find out until the 20th, so this is a bit of a mess. bear with us!
> 
> title from beyoncé's "[mine](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IDvu1ehPq0g)".
> 
> have fun, my friends.

"Shitgoddamnfuckmotherfuckgoddamnbitchhell."

Bastian's string of curses are readily audible to anyone in a five feet radius when the flight attendants announce via-intercom that _the connecting flight 619 to Montréal is cancelled due to severe weather conditions_. He finds it weak, really, to cancel a flight. The snow isn't _that_ bad.

It's just a couple of inches. For, like, five minutes.

Okay, maybe it was really the last three hours, and maybe it was more than a few inches, but wasn't the plane metal? And huge? And a technological invention for the ages? Shouldn't it be resistant to just a handful of brief snow thrown in the air? _Then again,_ Bastian thinks, _it can't even deal with, like, ten birds. Weak._

It's been a year and a half since he's seen his mother. Did they really have to cancel the one flight that he had booked months ago in advance to go see his mom? Really? And he'd even visualized the entire surprise sequence once he arrived at her doorstep in extremely detailed slow motion. He'd hesitate, walking up the short walkway, looking at the freshly fallen snow on the cobblestone. Reaching her doorstep, he'd exhale, loudly, very loudly, so that maybe the neighbors could hear it. That a boulder of condensation would disappear from his lips. That the firetruck would come roaring down the street because the air was so full of his condensation. He had even called up some old high school friends to go distract her while he drove from the airport to her house. Dad's been gone for years at this point, and Bastian is all his mom has left. And today's _fucking Christmas morning_. 

And the snow decides to _fucking_ cave in on his entire damn world. 

Goddamn it, nature. 

His best friend of ten years, one perpetually-smiling Lukas Podolski, was, curiously, not smiling. It was essentially in his job description to always be happy, and here he was, violating his own code of conduct. 

He hated it when Bastian was pissed off. 

Hated it. 

Because when Bastian was pissed off, the world just looked off-color and dark and depressing to him. Negativity was a bitch, and spread like a disease. And Lukas' terms of service had no tolerance for that kind of behavior. 

"Basti -" Lukas supposes that, maybe, maybe, maybe he'll be able to calm his friend down, in all his foul-mouthed, quaking glory. 

"Yeah?" Bastian whips around, eyes darkened, lips in a tight line. 

_Shit,_ Lukas thinks, _he really is fucking pissed._

_"It's okay, I mean -"_

"Don't even try it, Luki. It's not _fucking_ okay, and you know it. I've been planning for this _goddamn_ trip for a whole _goddamn_ year, and this is not going to be the _fucking_ end of it." Bastian seethes, the desperation laid out bare, ready for execution. 

"Basti, really, your mother isn't going to care." The crowd is clearing at this point, as everyone files towards the help desk to switch flights. 

"But what if - what if - what if something happens to her? I mean, she hasn't been perfectly stable ever since Dad left, and I haven't been back to see her since last July, and what if - what if -" He breaks at the last word, voice cracking, fizzling, stopping, dying. 

"She'll be fine, Bastian. Bastian. Your mom's a strong woman, okay? God, Bastian, don't do this to yourself. Look outside. The snow's beautiful. It's pure, and clear, and thick, and it's gorgeous. Look outside the damn window, Bastian." He just needs to distract the blond. That's all he needs to do. 

"But Lukas -" 

"No. Don't you dare lock yourself in that corner. Look outside the fucking window at the snow. Come on, Basti, look." 

And Bastian does. 

He looks past the glass, looks past the metal framework and the unkempt child wrestling with his little brother a plastic toy, stares at the rapidly falling snow, encapsulated by its beauty. 

"See, Bastian? The snow's falling. It's beautiful. Do you really believe anything bad can happen in something so beautiful?" 

"Yes." 

"No, Bastian. No. It's pure. Let it stay pure. Call your mum, tell her you love her. Yeah?" 

"Oh - okay. OK, Lukas." He continues to stare at the thick flakes, rapidly descending through the cold, clear air. 

Lukas almost shoves his smartphone into Bastian's palms. "Here. Call her. Tell her you love her. Tell her that you miss her. Tell her you'll be home soon. Tell her that she won't have to spend Christmas alone this year." 

"But that'll ruin the surprise." 

"But it will keep her safe. Because that's how fate works, Lukas. She'll be safe. As long as you call her." 

And Lukas' words are like a landline to Bastian's soul, a whisper in the warmth of the night, a dream quivering on his lips. 

So he does it. 

He unlocks Lukas' phone, and shakingly, he enters the digits of his mother's telephone number, fingers nimble across the glass screen. 

His fingers hover over the green call button, and Lukas closes his hand over Bastian's left fingers, warmth enveloping shivering cold. 

"Call her, Basti."

"Okay," Bastian says, "okay." And his thumb hits the button.

Bastian brings the device to his ear, and listens.

One ring.

Two.

Three.

"She's not picking up, Luki, she's not -"

"Wait," his best friend replies, squeezing his left fingers tightly.

"Okay."

Four.

Five.

"Luki, she's not going to pick up, Luki - Luki -"

"No. Bastian. For god's sake, be patient."

Six.

Seven.

"Luki -"

"Hello?"

"Hey, hello?"

Her voice is clear, but cautious.

"Who is this?"

"Mom, it's Basti."

"Bastian? Bastian, my dear, is this you?"

Bastian is close to tears. "Yes, yes, yes, mom, it's me, it's me, Basti."

"Bastian, my little baby, you haven't called me in so long -"

"I know, mom, I know, I've just been busy, and I - I wanted to tell you that I miss you."

"Well, of course you do." 

_Well, she's still my mother._

"Yeah, well, I was going to come back today and surprise you, but I've been snowed in with Lukas at the airport, mom, and -"

"Lukas? Lukas Podolski? Oh, Bastian, put him on the phone, baby, Lukas Podolski -"

Confused, Bastian hands the telephone back to Lukas, their hands still joined.

"Hello?"

"Oh, Lukas, dear, thank you for telling my Basti to come back and visit me, hon, I really appreciate it. You know, that last time you came along, you're probably the reason why Bastian didn't accidentally cut off a hand of his or something, and - "

Bastian mock-scowls.

"Oh, no, Mrs. Schweinsteiger, Bastian actually planned everything himself this time around. It was all his own idea." Lukas grins at his best friend, who rolls his eyes.

"Rubbish! When he was little, he couldn't even figure out which shoe to put on which foot. I'd find him after school, wearing the left shoe on the right foot -"

Lukas laughs, and asks Basti whether it's true or not. The blond flips him off.

"Your son doesn't seem to appreciate your comments that much, Mrs. Schweinsteiger."

"Ask him to tell it to my face. He's never too old for a spanking!"

An image of a twenty-eight-year-old Bastian getting spanked by his mother is too much for Lukas to bear, and he caves in, giggling. Bastian just scowls and snatches Lukas' phone back. Their hands separate, and Bastian feels immediately cold. His eyes meet Lukas', but neither of them say anything.

"Okay, to be fair, mom, I was five then. And directions were hard for me. And putting on clothes."

"Right, of course. I remember the last time you came to see me you couldn't even make me a pot of coffee, let alone buy plane tickets and organize surprise things -"

"Mom! This is not the time!"

"Oh, yes it is, Bastian, I'll have you know -"

Lukas saves Basti's arse, taking the phone back. "It's alright, Mrs. Schweinsteiger. You can tell me all about how horribly stupid Bastian is when we get to Montréal. Believe me, I know."

Bastian flips him off again, but he's smiling this time. 

"OK, Lukas, dear."

Bastian takes back the phone once more. "I love you, mom."

"Love you too, you little _schwein_."

"Hey!"

"Well, I'm being honest today. I was told at the grocery store today by this nice young lady that honesty is the best policy or some rubbish like that. So I've taken to that."

"Mom! I told you, stop talking to those grocery store people! They have lives to care about, not old women like you!"

"Bastian Schweinsteiger, I'll have you know that I am nearing the age of sixty. I'm not the old hag you always make me out to be, and -"

"Mom, I'm hanging up now."

"Why, I never. Can't even talk to your mother for more than five minutes. Tobias called me last week, and I talked to him and his nice wife for close to an hour before they had to go, and they have a _baby_ , Bastian, unlike -"

"Mom! I'm hanging up now!"

"OK, OK, Bastian."

"OK, I'll see you soon, mom. Love you."

"Have a safe trip, Bastian."

"Thanks, mom."

The line dies, then, with the click of the phone. Bastian's paralyzed, emotionally, physically, and wordlessly hands Lukas back his phone. His best friend pockets the device, and then unexpectedly embraces Bastian, his arms encircling the blond.

Suddenly, Bastian is hugging his best friend back, tightly, desperately, half-sobbing and half-laughing into the brunette's ear. "She's okay," he says, half-shouting, "she's okay, Luki, she's okay."

Lukas just holds on. "See, I told you?"

"Thank you, thank you, thank you. Luki, oh my god, thank you. You mean so much to me." And Bastian means it.

Bastian means it with his entire heart.

"It's okay, it's okay. You're welcome. All I've really been asking for is you. I guess I got my wish." The brunette replies, happy, content, safe in his best friend's arms.

Bastian laughs, uncontrolled, into his ear, and he loves it.

"Yeah, look at us. Two grown men, stuck in a packed airport, hugging like the world is going to end." They separate, and Bastian's hands drop to his sides, awkward. "Maybe you're right, Lukas. Maybe this all was supposed to happen. Maybe it is fate."

"Oh," Lukas replies. "I know it's fate. I know it."

The two link hands again, Lukas' right in Bastian's left, and they make their way to a pair of cold, uncomfortable airplane chairs facing the window. By this point the fighting children, and the hoard of disappointed people, and the flight attendants are gone. In their gate, now, there's just Bastian, and Lukas, holding hands and looking outside the great big window at the twirling snow, a hazy carpet across the world, a pure blanket suspended in the atmosphere.

"It's so beautiful, Luki. It's so, so, so beautiful."

"It is," Lukas agrees. "It really is."

Bastian smiles. "Merry Christmas, Luki."

Lukas smiles back. "Merry Christmas, Bastian."

-

the end

**Author's Note:**

> hope you enjoyed it!
> 
> this was inspired by prompt letter d - "basti & lukas coincidentally meet up at the airport and get snowed in, but (un)fortunately they’re not alone". we (illegally) change the coincidental bit, and we kind of made the "not alone" bit to be about doubt & guilt rather than actual physical people.
> 
> find us on tumblr at filmneuer.tumblr.com (leon) & album-fragmentation.tumblr.com (max)! comments & kudos are much appreciated!
> 
> -serein


End file.
